I'm Behind You
by IamMeWhoAreYou14
Summary: Ziva is being stalked. No one has been able to identify the stalker, but they know he's there. Tony is assigned to guard Ziva, much to her chagrin. She tries to wave off the help, and then disaster strikes. ON HIATUS. I'M ANGRY AT NCIS RIGHT NOW. SORRY.
1. Lay Off, Tony

**A/N: I decided to rewrite this. I'm not sure how much better it is, but it needed a redo. I'm really sorry for dropping off, but after Ziva left the show, I sorta went into denial, and NCIS lost its flare for a while. I'll probably jump back on it, though, because now that (SPOILER ALERT) Ziva is dead and Tony is gone too, I feel like I have to complete it, like a tribute or something. I dunno.**

 **Again, I apologize.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or it's characters. I wish I did.**

* * *

 **"Tony, please, stop following me."**

Special Agent Ziva David stood outside the NCIS building, her arms crossed, a look on her face that could stop a raging camel. Yet somehow, Special Agent Tony DiNozzo was unafraid. At least, for his own safety.

"Ziva, for the last time, you're being stalked."

Ziva rolled her eyes and looked at him. "By you."

"I don't count," he said dryly. "And anyway, if I didn't "stalk you", Gibbs would have my head."

"Good point."

Gibbs had given Tony direct orders to follow Ziva like a lost puppy, to protect her from this so called stalker. Ziva appreciated their concern, but she was getting sick of movie lines as her life's background music.

"I happen to like my head," Tony went on. "Very good looking, never leaves me, always knows where to find the food, and tracks down all the good looking la–"

"Tony," Ziva suddenly froze, staring straight past her obnoxious bodyguard at a spot a across the street were an old man sat on a bench. Tony's hand flew to his gun, and he glanced rapidly behind him.

"What?"

No answer.

"Ziva?" Tony turned–

–she had vanished.

He had his cell phone out in two seconds flat, and was already dialing Gibbs's number when: "Who are you calling?"

Tony jumped, then whipped his head around to see Ziva David, the one and only, grinning slyly at him. "A new girlfriend?"

"No."

He huffed and pointed to the building. "I obviously can't trust you. Get inside."

"No," Ziva said, in that voice that was sweet, yet told you that death was the only other option. Having Tony follow her around nonstop was bad enough; him ordering her around? Ha! That would drive her up the hall. Or the wall. Whichever.

Tony gritted his teeth, then forced a grin. "I can force you," he said, nodding at her in a way that suggested he really didn't want to.

Ziva matched his smile. "And I can flip over shoulder and plant you in a sewage system."

Tony's mouth stretched a little further. "Yeah, right."

Ziva raised her eyebrows and smirked. Tony's smile melted slightly.

"Would you?" It wasn't really a question at all.

Ziva turned on her heel and flounced back toward the building, with Tony quick stepping it behind her. She huffed to herself and flounced faster.

"Ziva, wait up!" he called after her.

"I'm not waiting for you, Tony."

"Ziva, will you stop running ahead?!"

"What," Ziva mocked coyly, not slowing her pace. "Are you too slow?"

"Hey!"

Ziva felt Tony grab her by the shoulder, and she stopped, rolling her eyes. "Tony, stop being such a child. I can handle myself."

Behind her, DiNozzo made a strange sound, the grip on her shoulder tightened. Did he want her to shank him? "Tony, I swear, let go of my shoulder, or I'll–"

Before she could finish her sentence, Tony tackled her. He dropped all his weight against her and let her try to carry it. As if. Ziva easily sidestepped him as he pitched onto her, letting him fall face first into the ground with grunt. Ziva frowned at him, clicking her tongue in false disappointment and rolled him over with her foot in triumph with a chuckle.

"I did try to tell you, Tony."

Then Ziva stopped laugh: Tony was gripping his right side, and he was slowly curling into a ball like a burning piece of paper.

"Tony?"

And then she saw blood seeping through his fingers.

* * *

 **A/N: Ta da! If you've read the older version, you're probably really disappointed that it isn't something more. I promise I will make more. If you saw any grammar mistakes or anything, let me know. Ciao!**


	2. What You Can't See Can Still Hurt You

**A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this out! I had midterm exams in high school, and with Christmas, like, really close, I had a lot to do. But here it is! I hope you guys like it! And thanks for waiting so patiently! ;)**

 **Disclaimer: NCIS IS NOT OF MY CREATION. (darn it.)**

 **»»»»»-**

"Shooter!"

People ducked for cover as Ziva rolled to her left, coming to a crouching position behind a concrete trash bin. She whipped her gun out of its holster and peeked out, looking about for the gunner. Seeing nothing, she reached out and grabbed Tony's leg, trying to drag him into the safety of the trash bin, leaving a thin trail of blood.

Tony made an effort to crawl, and Ziva could see him gritting his teeth. He help his right hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Ziva finally rolled him behind the bin, and heaved into a sitting position, leaning him against the bin. Tony swatted her hand away and blinked hard.

"I'm fine," he mustered. "Get down!"

Ziva glared at him. "Shut up." She pushed his hand away from the wound and gave it a quick look over, as she dialed medical emergency services .22 caliber bullet, it looked like, but she couldn't tell if it had an exit wound. Then she stopped.

.22 caliber?

That bullet came from a handgun, if her deduction was correct. How did the shooter fire at such close range, and yet get away unheard? Even a silencer makes some noise. And how did she miss him? How did she not know?

Tony wheezed suddenly, and Ziva glanced at his face. He smiled at her, and she could see his teeth with were red with blood. She winced.

"This is bad."

His smile faded to grim look.

"I told you, Ziva," he gritted, his voice rattling slightly. "Someone's out to kill you."

»»»»»»-

Ziva sat in the private waiting room at the hospital, with Gibbs and McGee on either side of her, just as she had been for the past three hours. McGee was thumbing through a technology magazine, trying to look inconspicuous, but she could see him glance up and look around every so often. Across his forehead was etched the little line of concern that he always got when one of his friends was in danger.

On the other side of Ziva, sat Gibbs.

He made no effort to look inconspicuous, but somehow he was.

He stared intently across the room, not making a sound, yet still sitting relaxed. His hands sat in his lap, his gun in easy reach under his jacket. He tapped his knee – once, twice, three times – then stood up and stretched. He walked over the curtained window that separated them from Tony.

Even though he was no doubt concerned about his agent's condition, Ziva couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Gibbs was the only person she still couldn't read.

Tony had said she'd never be able to, but she still tried.

Ziva's thoughts drifted back to Tony and the attack. No one had any clue who the potential assassin was, and Ziva still had no idea how the shooter gotten past her. NCIS had several agents on the trail as Gibbs's team sat in the hospital, but they hadn't even found any brass. Abby had texted Ziva so many questions, she finally had to block her, just to stay sane.

Although, at looked as if the wait was going to drive Ziva insane first. Or maybe the sinking feeling of awkward guilt.

Finally, the door to the waiting room opened, and the doctor stepped in, looking rather bored.

McGee stood up quickly, almost tripping but catching himself nicely, turning into a "putting my magazine down" move, which would've been pretty clever, except that the magazine slid off the table and went under a chair. McGee ignored it stepped toward the doctor. Ziva stood as well, not wanting to, but feeling as though she was expected to. Anyway, it felt awkward to be the only one sitting.

"Well?" Gibbs asked in his quiet way.

The doctor twiddled a pen in two fingers, and held a pad of paper in the other hand.

"He'll live," the doctor drawled. (Dr. Pitt was on a short vacation, and this jerk had been the substitute. Ziva want to put him in a hospital.) "The bullet punctured his stomach and went out the other side, but we stitched him up. He should be up killing people in about a week."

Gibbs shot him a murder face.

"Killing bad people, of course." The doctor looked suddenly flustered, then motioned toward the door. "You can see him, I guess."

"You guess?" Gibbs said stiffly, and pushed past him, with McGee close behind. Ziva gave the doctor a smug look with just a hint of warning as she passed by, and the doctor followed, looking very flustered now, and a little scared, too.

»»»»»»-

Tony was laying down, playing thumb war with himself with a drowsy look. Gibbs walked in, and Tony turned his head as the rest of the team followed. A weary smile lit his face. Ziva looked at the floor, feeling guilty all over again. Why hadn't she seen the shooter!?

"Hi, boss," he slurred. He raised his hand and formed the peace sign from Star Trek with his fingers. "How goes it?"

"You are a walking accident, Di Nozzo."

"Can't help it I'm so popular," Tony replied thickly. "And anyway, it was Ziva they were after."

"How can you be sure?" McGee asked. "I mean, how could they possibly miss her, and get you, without anyone noticing?"

"Well, gee, McSherlock," Tony said sarcastically. "If I knew, I would stop them."

 _To be continued..._


	3. Missing Agent

**"Ziva," Gibbs said sharply.**

Ziva looked up from her desk, where she had been writing down a series of questions that she had, to try to organize her scrambled thoughts:

 _Why didn't I see the shooter?_

 _Is he/she really after me? If not, who is he/she after?_

 _Why is he/she doing this?_

 _What evidence did we have that someone was stalking me, in the first place?_

 _How did that shooter manage to shoot Tony without me noticing?_

 _Why am I writing things down?_

 _I haven't written anything down since…_

 _… that grocery list last week counts, I suppose._

 _What the hell am I writing?_

 _HOW DID THAT SHOOTER GET PAST MY EPIC SEMI SENSE POWERS?!_

 _"It's Jedi, Ziva."_

"What?" Ziva asked, completely confused. She had expected Gibbs to come to her with news, but then he said something about Jedi? Whatever those were.

"Jedi sense powers," Gibbs said. "With the Force. Not Semi."

Ziva's mouth formed a 'o' of realization, then frowned. "What does this have to do with the shooter?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Nothing."

"Oh."

Gibbs walked over to his desk and sat down, taking a sip of coffee that had been there previously that morning. Ziva sat, even more confused than before. She scribbled wildly over the notes she had made, set down the pen with a flourish, and rested her head in her hands. She ran the moment of the shooting through her head, from when she realized that something was really wrong, to when the ambulance had arrived and police and agents had begun to scour the area.

Nothing had seemed out of place. Aside from Tony's ridiculous safeguarding (which now, didn't seem so ridiculous), everything had been completely normal. Everyone had been walking about, talking, taking calls, eating home brought lunches, or even just sitting for some air. Occasionally a random person walked by, maybe holding a child's hand, maybe just going for a run. Lots of military families lived on base. Everything was fine. No one had seemed agitated in the slightest.

Now that Ziva thought about it, it was the perfect cover. A lot of the people there on that site were NCIS agents, (after all, it was the Naval base,) and of those people, about half of them carried some type of firearm at some point, so a gun would've been no threat at all when carried in the hands of a fellow agent.

A fellow agent…

The gunner must've been agent. Or had been impersonating an agent. No one would've noticed the shooter, if he moved swiftly. And DiNozzo had just pulled a weapon before, which would definitely gave off a knowing vibe. And after Ziva had made the declaration that there was a shooter, everyone took cover, and those with a weapon on them drew it. The disguised shooter could have easily ducked like everyone else, then scrambled away to safety.

It was brilliant.

Ziva stood and quickly made her way to McGee, who was sitting staring blankly into space, tapping his keyboard with a bright green pen. "McGee!"

McGee started, sitting up and turning toward her. "What is it?"

"I need you to look up the recent agent overviews."

McGee glanced at her, his brow furrowing again. "Why?"

"Just do it," she said, and leaned over his shoulder to watch the magic.

McGee's fingers flew, and soon, the overview file on every agent at the base lay at his mouse-tip.

"What exactly am I looking for?" McGee asked.

"See if anyone was absent about a month ago," Ziva said. "Or a little bit before I was diagnosed with a stalker."

McGee looked quizzically at her. "What are you trying to say…?"

"Quiet," Ziva hissed. "Just do it."

McGee peered at her again, then looked through the files. A few minutes later, he came up with fifteen agents who had not been at work sometime in the previous month. McGee surfed through those, and found that most of the agents had called in and said they couldn't make it that day, on account of sickness, injury, or family emergency. One of them however, had not called in on the day of absence, the 2nd of October, nor had he been seen at the building for almost two weeks afterward.

"Look at this one," McGee said. "Roger McCarthy. He was absent for two weeks. He returned on Friday the 16th last week. His reason was not stated. He just said he had had some personal business to take care of."

Ziva thought on that, then smirked to herself. She knew what Tony would suggest the agent had been up to. But she had an idea of something else. Something a bit more dangerous.

"When did the supposed stalking start?" Ziva inquired. She herself had not gotten in on that investigation. She was firmly convinced that everyone was just overreacting and being protective mama hens, and therefore didn't really know many details.

"Uh… About a week and half ago we decided. All evidential pictures suggested it. And Tony said he kept seeing the same strange guy watching you as you walked in."

"Into this building?"

"Yeah. He said he caught him at it twice, and got suspicious. Said the way he looked at you wasn't right."

"Tony was watching me?"

"Well… Yeah."

"I guess we found the real stalker," Ziva muttered. "And he based the whole stalking idea off of two sightings?"

"No. There were more," McGee went on. "After those two days, Tony kept watching, and the man apparently watched you go in, left about 5 minutes later, and then came back when you left in the evening. We figured maybe he was learning your pattern, or something, whoever he was."

Ziva bit her lip, once again wondering why she hadn't noticed this man before. Routine had become so routine, she had forgotten that threats are everywhere, no matter how safe you think you are.

"Why didn't you just go ask him some questions?" Ziva asked.

"We were going to, but he vanished. Tony looked out the window on the…" McGee counted on his fingers. "...seventh day of his watching you? and the guy wasn't there. You came in, but he wasn't there. He wasn't there at night either. Tony got itchy, and asked Gibbs what he should do. Gibbs told him to check on you as you came on the next day, and see what happened. The man wasn't there. When the man didn't show up at night, Tony requested permission to protect you. Three days later, with no sign of the man, we were beginning to doubt there had been a stalker at all. Then, this…"

"So, there _is_ a stalker."

"I think this guy is more like an _assassin_."

Ziva almost smiled. "Well, so am I." She turned to her boss.

"Gibbs, I think I have a lead..."

* * *

 **A/N: I am so sorry for not updating. I had this chapter ready for a while, but I was trying to fix a few inconsistencies in the timeline. (It's still kinda sketchy, so if you find a screw up, please,** ** _please, PLEASE_** **let me know.) I do still have the story in my head, so I'll try to update more. Again, I'm SO sorry! :)**

 **PS: I've decided that using mild language in a story is okay, so long as it helps keep the characters in character. I hope no one is offended.**


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